By Our Fauna and Flora Correspondent
Marylebone awoke this week to the announcement of a grand civic undertaking: the first official Pigeon Census, a project some are already calling “the most important statistical exercise since the Domesday Book, but more feathery.”
Organised by the newly-formed Marylebone Ornithological Bureau (MOB), the census aims to count every pigeon within the district, assigning each bird a unique identifying number and, where possible, a character assessment. “We’ve had population estimates before,” explained Dr Lionel Gripton, head of MOB, “but never a rigorous audit. Until now, nobody has asked: is this pigeon shy? Is it ambitious? Does it have leadership qualities?”
Volunteers have been issued clipboards, seed sachets, and pencils, and deployed to street corners, rooftops, and café terraces. “We’re not just tallying,” said Gripton. “We’re discerning. For example, on Dorset Street I met pigeon number 341, a fine specimen with the calm assurance of a junior bank manager. By contrast, pigeon 342 seemed shifty, as though concealing insider trading.”
The project has met mixed responses from locals. Café owner Amelia Browne welcomed the census: “If they finally know how many pigeons are sitting on my awning each day, perhaps they’ll tax them properly.” By contrast, retiree Gerald Pott dismissed it as “an absurd waste of time. Everyone knows there are millions of them. They should all be deported to the countryside where they belong. Who wants pigeons in the city?”
Early findings have already raised eyebrows. On Wigmore Street, a particularly corpulent pigeon, identified as 511, was observed eating half a croissant in one sitting, before waddling menacingly toward the volunteer taking notes. Meanwhile, on Marylebone High Street, a romantic drama unfolded when pigeon 227 began a courtship display for pigeon 228, only to be rebuffed in favour of pigeon 229, a younger bird with glossy plumage.
MOB insists the census will lead to lasting benefits. Once completed, they plan to produce a 24-volume report, an interactive website, and possibly a Netflix docu-series entitled “Pigeons: The Feathered Citizens Among Us.”
The bureau’s ultimate ambition? To give every pigeon in Marylebone a name, ideally “reflective of their inner life.” Dr Gripton is already lobbying Parliament to extend voting rights to what he calls “our avian co-inhabitants.”
For now, though, the pigeons remain oblivious, pecking at crumbs with the same implacable indifference. As one volunteer sighed on Paddington Street: “They know we’re watching. The question is—will they ever count us back?”
